


Winter Has Come

by Mrs_Steve_Rogers



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle, Game of Thrones spoilers, Gen, GoT season 5, Hardhome, Survivor Guilt, White Walkers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Steve_Rogers/pseuds/Mrs_Steve_Rogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Spoilers for s5e8: Hardhome)</p><p>After the crows and the free folk who were lucky enough to make it to the boats had sailed away, and after the White Walkers and their army of the dead marched off from the shores of Hardhome, a lone human is left alive there, abandoned by both the living and the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little rough, and not finished, but I wanted to see if anyone was interested in it. I really liked Karsi and I wanted a different ending for her. Hope you enjoy!

A warm, heavy huff in the broken woman's ear stirred something in her consciousness, waking it from its deep sleep. The snuffling in her ear was followed by a tentative poke at her temple with a cold, wet nose. The sharp prick of pain that came next woke her further, enabling her to open her eyes slightly, wincing at the soft light falling from above. The dog that had been poking at her scampered away at her first sign of awareness, and stood a few yards back from her, watching cautiously.  


Karsi continued to lie there, forgetting about the animal that had woken her, trying to remember where she was and how long she'd been lying there. Trees stood above her, filtering light to the earth through thin, bare branches, and as she was looking up at them, she wondered idly why there were no birds about. If she could sit up and look around, she would probably be able to tell where she was, but she couldn’t handle that just yet. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t estimate how long she’d been lying there, unconscious.  


Attempting to puzzle everything out gave her more time to prepare for movement, at least. Karsi felt pain all over her body, especially her head and face. She couldn’t remember why she was in so much pain, but she guessed it must’ve been due to an unfortunate encounter with some animal she’d been hunting. But then again, she definitely wouldn’t have gone hunting alone, and she’d never been hurt this much by any animal before, not even that black bear that got the better of her a few years back.  
  
Could it have been a fight with another from Hardhome, then? There had been a lot of tension among the free folk encamped at the old village port of Hardhome, with everyone disagreeing about where they should go next, and everyone afraid of what might be chasing them. Just last week Karsi had almost come to blows with Meritte, another of the elders who took particular issue with her proposal to make for the Wall again. But if she indeed had a row with someone, why was she out in the trees? Nobody would just leave her out there to freeze. No, that wasn’t what happened either. What was it, then? What could possibly have beaten her down so much, her temple pounding, her face numb and biting at the same time, her hands too stiff to move…  


An image flashed behind her eyes, inside her mind: bright blue eyes like she’d never seen on a person, a sickly, chilling blue. Blue eyes in black faces, the skin rotted and pulled tight over barely concealed bones. And suddenly she knew. She knew why she was all alone, she knew why she was lying on the ground, and she knew why she felt half dead.  
  
_I'm lucky to be only half dead; I should be the dead walking with the rest of them. ___


	2. Chapter 2

Karsi was just starting to comprehend what had happened, what she had survived. She retraced the last events she remembered: the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the pretty black-haired king of the crows, had come ashore with a dozen of his black-clad men at his heels, and Tormund Giantsbane striding next to him, of all people. Everyone was shocked to see that Tormund was alive, and even more shocked to learn that he had allied himself with the crows. She remembered the impromptu council of the elders, as the young crow leader explained himself and offered them land south of the Wall, so that the free folk and the crows might fight together against the impending Long Night of winter.  


Many of the elders agreed to his proposition, and the free folk that wished to sail to safety were ferried to huge sailboats topped with faded sails. They were told that the boats were part of the royal fleet, though that didn't impress them much. Then, in the middle of the mostly orderly evacuation, an echoing, rumbling noise rained down from the nearest mountains. She had thought it was an avalanche at the start, but it turned out to be something far worse, and far deadlier.  
  
That was when the wights attacked, an unorganized but effective army of dead men, women, and children in varying states of decay. Most were grimy skeletons with remnants of furs and leather hanging from their bones and axes clutched in their thin, unnaturally strong fingers. Others still had skin, dead and gray, wounds blackened with blood that stopped flowing long ago. Yet no matter how rotted or dead they looked, they all came at the living with terrifying ferocity, barely slowing down when an arrow shot through their forehead or when a sword cut off their arm. Karsi knew they would never stop them here; everyone knew, both living and dead alike. But she and the other warriors continued to fight, trying to buy as much time as possible for the others to board the boats and row far away from the carnage. Karsi had hacked left and right, never having a moment to rest or get her bearings. Her whole being was focused on _kill, kill, kill _, so that she might live another minute longer.  
__

Closing her eyes and returning to the present, Karsi abruptly decided that she had spent enough time on the ground. She steeled her courage and slowly pushed herself up so that she was sitting. The tree trunks blurred in front of her eyes, her head spinning. Taking deep breaths, she willed her stomach to settle, as the pounding headache at her temple roiled her insides. She focused on her breathing, having learned this technique after her first head injury. Twice had she experienced such symptoms before, but this time was worse. The wounds that no doubt adorned her body like the Thenns’ traditional raised scars certainly didn’t help matters, either. Despite this, Karsi was determined that she would rise and look upon what was left of Hardhome.  
  
Finally, after what felt like hours, Karsi had gathered enough strength to stand up. Her body screamed at her in protest, and her head joined in, but she ignored them as best she could. She had lain useless on the ground for long enough; now she was going to do something, anything. Hobbling along, using the trees to lean on every few feet, Karsi noticed that the dog that had woken her was nervously trailing a safe distance behind. She recognized it as one of Ulfred’s dogs that had roamed the camp and helped hunt game, back when there had been game to hunt. It wasn’t a threat; likely starving and lonely, looking for a companion to tell it what to do, so Karsi shuffled along without worry.  
  
She had only a few yards to go before she emerged from the tree line onto the bay, where the humble settlement of Hardhome resided. It was utterly silent. So strange to hear nothing, when just a few days past thousands of free folk milled sullenly about, the adults arguing about everything while the oblivious children ran after the barking dogs playfully. Karsi’s own daughters had been among those children, little Emry and Vella. Karsi knew that they were on one of the crow’s boats, sailing for safety and a new life south of the Wall, but the thought strangely gave her little comfort. She trusted Tormund when he vouched for the King Crow, and the crow had told her himself that her girls would be safe. But what if Tormund and the crow had been killed? What would the crows left on the boats do without their commander? No, she couldn’t think of that. Her daughters were likely hundreds of leagues at sea by now, and there were hundreds of free folk along with them who would care for them. Perhaps her sister had made it onto the same boat, surely she would comfort and protect them.

Having convinced herself that there was no use in worrying about her daughters, she turned her attention to the wreckage in front of her. A few huts lay in blackened piles, some smoke still rising from the smoldering ashes. The hut that the elders had had their final meeting in was among them, the roof collapsed in among the rubble.  
Thinking back again, the last voice she remembered hearing was Therald’s, her sister’s husband. “Karsi!” He’d screamed at her from twenty yards away, across pairs engaged in battle and numerous corpses. “Karsi, get t’ the boats! Get t’ the damn boats now!”

Oh how badly Karsi had wanted to listen to Therald, to slice her way through the dead fuckers and make for the dock, to safety, to her daughters. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t going to abandon her people and flee while others stayed behind and were slaughtered. That wasn’t the way Karsi had lived all her life. As she opened her mouth to urge Therald to go instead, she saw a wight’s axe snap his spear, and she knew he was gone. The wight jumped on him, and two more followed, crushing her good-brother to the ground under their flailing, untiring limbs.


End file.
